Long Live Darley
by hoppnhorn
Summary: Super short One-shot. Rated T for Language. I don't want to give anything away with a summary.


**Randomly inspired. Random story. Humor me. ;)**

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Corey hated this state. It was far too open for her tastes. Growing up in the country hadn't done her any favors when she'd moved to the city. In the city, you learn to watch your back at all times. But in the country, your back was always open. Fields stretched for miles in every direction, and who knows what lingered in those tall stalks.

If it weren't for this small errand, she wouldn't come back to the house. Ever. It wasn't because of the memories. Her childhood was a respectable one. But that part of her life was over. Now was her time to dominate. And you can't do that from a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

Driving calmly down the long road, her window was cracked for a breeze, filling her Mustang with the fresh air. If there was one thing she missed about the country, it was that smell. There was nothing like it in the city. It was a mixture of grass and dirt, combined with a light bouquet of flowers that grew somewhere in the hills. The smell brought a smile to her face as she stubbed her cigarette out in the car ashtray. She couldn't toss butts out the window here. This wasn't the hood. This was a sanctuary, an untouched place she hid from everyone.

When she finally came to the tiny dirt road, she turned and smirked at the rocky driveway. Her father had said he'd pave it over and over since she was a kid. Yet here it was, as crumbly as she remembered. Her car was tossed and bucked all the way down the mile drive, and she shook her head. It never changed.

The house was a two-story, century-old country home, sitting serenely in the middle of an acre of land. Technically, her parents owned the fifteen acres surrounding the house, but they'd never had use for it. She could remember playing in the miles and miles of weeds, coming home with mud up to her armpits. It was a child's dream, that yard. But she hadn't stepped foot in it for several years now. Parking beside the house, she stood up and looked out over the flat fields.

"You need a goddamn paint job." Smiling before she even turned her head, Corey put a hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. Her father never said hello. It was too friendly for someone like him.

"Hi Daddy." She grinned, crunching over the gravel driveway in her boots. Every time she left for home, she had to remember to change her shoes. Walking around in anything other than work boots would result in ruined shoes. The old pair of riding boots from her trunk still fit, molding to her feet like the day she'd gotten them.

From the porch, her father simply nodded, leaning against a wooden railing. He didn't like to show her affection, but it wasn't because he didn't love her. In fact, she suspected he loved her more than anything else on the earth. But her father didn't say those things. To anyone. And when she'd left, it'd hurt him. He wanted to go with her, live on the edge like he had in his heyday. But he couldn't, and he knew it, so she'd left him there. And each time she came back, he put on the act of not caring. It only proved the contrary.

"Where's my mother?" She asked, slowly climbing the wooden steps. Rolling his eyes, her father flipped a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Bein' a pain in my ass." Snorting a little, she put her arms around the grumbling old man. He only resisted for a moment, his arms slowly forming a vice around her back. She was his little girl, and he always softened for her.

Standing at about six feet, her father was taller than she, even after age had started to rob him of his original height. His body was still strong for an older man, and his arm flexed around her in a tight hug.

"Givin' her hell?" She murmured, releasing him to pat his cheek. He promptly made a face, batting her hand away with a swat.

"All you women, fuckin' naggin' about everything." She laughed again, shaking her head. No matter how long she was gone, nothing ever seemed to change.

"Don't you talk about me ya old shit." The screen door swung open with a small bang against the house. Corey grinned as her mother took up the doorframe, hands on her hips with a frown on her face. If her parent's weren't arguing, the world wasn't spinning.

"Was anyone talkin' to ya?" Her father muttered, taking the toothpick out of his mouth with two fingers. "Fuckin' hell, woman."

"Don't call me that!" She snapped back, jutting a finger in his face. "You're the one who dropped a goddamn jar of spaghetti sauce all over the goddamn floor. Don't get all 'woman' with me." Corey raised an eyebrow, looking at her father with a grin.

"What'd you do?" Her father chomped down on the toothpick, gritting his teeth.

"It fell off the counter."

"Bullshit." Her mother muttered, opening her arms. Corey took the cue and hugged her, laughing at her father's glaring face. "You're just pissed we can't have fuckin' Ragu with our dinner." Then she patted her daughter's back, looking at her face. "It's good ta see you, honey."

"Hi Ma."

"You're the one who put it on the fuckin' edge of the counter."

"Would you shut up?" Corey laughed at her parents, shaking her head between them.

"I see nothing's changed around here." Her mother finally cracked a grin. Though the two might fight, Corey knew they loved each other. A lot. People like her parents didn't run off together for nothing. "I got somethin' for you." Fishing the envelope out of her jeans, she held it out to her father, avoiding his eyes. He didn't like taking the money she made, but it was her duty. That's how it had always been.

After rolling the toothpick around in his mouth a few times, he took the envelope and tapped it on his knuckles.

"Business good?" He asked carefully, weighing the thick stack in his hand. The payment was almost double what she normally brought, and they both knew it. But the question helped ease the awkward silence. Corey nodded, sliding her hands into her back pockets.

"Always." Only then did he look up, meeting her eyes. Those moments told her things he'd never verbalize. And this one said he was proud.

That made these trips worth the long drive.

"You gonna stay for dinner?" Her mother asked gently, running her fingers through Corey's sweaty bangs. She shook her head quickly, thinking about the time. The sooner she headed out of state, the sooner she'd be back to work. She didn't like leaving the city for long. Her father snorted.

"She's got shit ta do." They exchanged a small grin and Corey dipped her head in a farewell, backing off the porch. Her family also never said goodbye.

"No rest for the wicked." Her mother stepped beside her father, watching as she retreated to her car. Her visits were never long. Staying would ruin the delicate balance. Her parents were the past; she was the future. And the future didn't stay for dinner.

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As they watched their daughter drive away, Billy wrapped an arm around Helen's shoulders. In the past, he may have hated Helen for getting pregnant, and resented himself for loving her too much to abandon her, but he couldn't feel those things anymore. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he'd live this long. Sixty. He was old. No one in his family had lived that long for generations.

Billy Darley had lived his life, long enough to watch his child do the same.

"That sauce isn't gonna clean itself up." Helen muttered, dropping her head onto his shoulder. Billy smirked.

"Fuck it."

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**Totally deviates from my normal Billy. But hey, I made him live! He was bound to change if he was going to do that…**

**Love to you all. Thanks for reading! :D**


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